Working the Boss - Working from Home

**Author's Note: This is a direct sequel to "Working the Boss". I will provide a brief synopsis for those that either don't wish to read the first story or haven't done so recently enough to remember.

*

Emma is the owner of a clothing store that has recently opened back up from the pandemic shutdowns. During a late-night stocking session, Emma's employee/friend, Michelle, seduces Emma with a rouse involving a fake robbery. Once the sex begins the "robber" is gone and Michelle dominates Emma. By the end of the story, Emma (the boss) is completely sexually subservient to Michelle (the employee). The last thing Michelle said was, "Tomorrow, I'm going to come to your house with my strap-on and fuck you rotten in front of your husband."**

Working the Boss: Working from Home

"Are you okay, Emma?"

After the rough way she'd been talking to me, her considerate question seemed shocking. I thought I was a slut. I thought I was some fucktoy she would masturbate with and put back in a drawer. She was "Mistress", an all-powerful being who seemed able to make me into something I hadn't been before. Why would she ask me if I was okay? Yet, still, she cradled my head in her left hand, brushed the hair off my forehead with her right and repeated, "You alright?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah, I'm...better than alright. A little shook maybe, but that was...I mean...that was...I've never had a moment like. It was the greatest moment of... No, that can't be right...I."

"It's okay. It's a lot. Just relax, I'll take care of you."

Michelle sat my head on the floor and wrapped an arm around my knees to gently lift my hips out of the puddle I had created in the carpet. She slid on my underwear, then helped me up and handed me my shirt. While I buttoned it, she directed me to sit in the chair that had been pulled over for me to go down on her. She went into the back and came out with a Gatorade and handed it to me, before going about the business of dressing herself.

I'd seen the Gatorade in the staff fridge and thought it was strange since she'd never brought one to work before. Turned out it was for me. A resurrected voice in the back of my mind tried to be offended. It was barely a distant whisper. I should've been angry, but I just felt privileged. Michelle had put all of this thought and effort into me, given me the fuck of a lifetime, and then I sat in a chair drinking my juice while she busied about, taking care of everything. After she locked the door and lowered the gate, she produced a towel she must have had stashed, and cleaned up my mess.

"You did so well, Emma. You're a quick learner."

"I haven't done that before."

"I know. I'll teach you how to make me squirt, too, but I'm mostly a giver, except for having my pussy eaten." Then she changed again, from my friend to that other woman. Her eyes, her voice, even the way she stood. I looked to the floor out of something like fear and respect for My Mistress. "That's what I want My Slut to do, get fucked and eat pussy. You understand?"

I continued to stare at the floor. "I liked it. I...,"

I didn't realize she was coming at me until I felt the pain of her finding my nipple, with alarming accuracy, through my shirt and bra. It was crushed between her fingers, and she began to twist. I tried to pull her off, but that only made it worse. "MY SLUT. Gets fucked. And eats pussy. Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress." She let me go and I reached under her skirt, needing her pussy, but she swatted my hand away. I rolled my tongue around my mouth with sudden regret that I drank the Gatorade because I could no longer taste her. "When can I...I mean, what happens now?"

Just like that, my friend Michelle was back. "Now, you finish getting dressed and go home. I'll get all the Spring dresses out and take care of everything. You see, the store is yours, but you are mine. I'll take care of you. It's like having a queen. You make your own decisions and live your own life, but you have to do it within the queen's laws, and when a royal decree is issued, you must abide by it or face swift punishment."

"But, how do I..."

"Emma, who asked you the question, your friend or your Mistress?"

"My Mistress." The words themselves had power (Yes Mistress, No Mistress, My Mistress) and my insides warmed every time I said them.

"Then you should have responded with the proper respect. I know it's a lot to take in, but you're married, which makes things complicated. You're going to need to behave properly tomorrow night for everything to work."

"You mean, you're really coming over? You can't! This has to stay secret. This is an affair. I'm a cheater. Oh my god, I've cheated on Jason."

"Stop."

"Yes, Mistress." I felt a tingle.

"Do you want to lie to your husband?"

"No Mistress." I shifted in my seat, wet and sensitive.

She grabbed my chin with her forefinger and thumb, turning my eyes up to hers. Her intense stare was both unbearable and inescapable. "My Slut doesn't have to worry about these things. I take care of her. I'll make Jason beg me to fuck you. Do you understand?"

I was still just in my button-up shirt, bra, and panties, leaning forward with my chin in her hand. I didn't understand what she was doing to me. I didn't understand how she made me so aroused so easily, but I started rubbing my panties. I had to. "Yes, Mistress."

"You like getting orders, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress." My hand moved inside my underwear and inside of me, my middle finger curving, hunting for the place she found.

She leaned in until our noses almost touched. "You want me to give you another command, Emma? You want me to tell you what to do?"

My finger couldn't find what she found earlier, but I rode my hand in the seat, my chin still in her hand, our eyes locked. My clit was grinding into my palm and Her Slut's hungry pussy was making sloppy squishing sounds. "Yes, Mistress."

"You aren't allowed to cum until I see you tonight."

"I won't after this one. I promise. I just need..."

The hand that had been gently cradling my jaw became a vise, radiating pain to the top of my head and back down to my jaw. My hand stilled but my pussy pulsed and sucked, begging for more. The pain made me warm. It made me hot. My hips began moving on my hand again. I couldn't stop them, even knowing it would only make things worse. She pulled me to my feet by the clamp on my chin. I had to stand on my tip-toes to alleviate the pain. My mouth was too squished to even properly beg for mercy.

"Did you just talk back to me?"

"I'm tho thorry, pweeth pweeth"

Who the fuck are you talking to?"

"My Mithtreth."

"And do you want me to be Your Mistress?

"Yeth Mithtreth."

"Do you want to be the slut at my beck and call whenever I decide I need a tongue in my pussy or a hole to fuck?"

"Yeth Mithtreth." The words still felt good even coming out of my aching mouth. Even stretched up to my toes, I had to squeeze my thighs together.

She dropped me to the floor. I sat on my knees with my head hung in shame, the universal posture of contrition.

"That's very good. But My Slut does what I TELL her to do. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Excellent, because I never want to have this conversation again, and if you make me, it will be far less pleasant. Since you obviously didn't understand me before, let me be clear. You will not cum until I see you tonight. I'll see it all over your face. I will turn around and leave you to spend the rest of your life with your limp dick husband."

"He doesn't..."

"Shut the FUCK UP!"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now you listen well. Because if you pull shit like that tomorrow, everything will be fucked. I know that it is unreasonable for me to expect you to understand the nuances of our dynamic in one day. I'm not asking for that. What you need to know, for now, is black and white. Do what I say, when I say it, and address me with some goddamn respect."

"Yes, Mistress."

Michelle got down on her knees and gave me a hug. She smelled amazing. "Okay, Emma. Get dressed and go home. You're taking tomorrow off. Racheal is covering your shift, and I'll come back to close. Just make sure you and Jason are home at nine. You tell him I'm coming, but don't tell him why. I'll see you then."

I was getting whiplash. "It won't really be you though. Will it?"

Michelle smiled and kissed me on the forehead. Then she walked away from me, deeper into the store, and began to move the racks around. I got dressed, threw away my Gatorade bottle, and left through the back to go face the man I had loved for my entire adult life.

**************

I still loved Jason. I needed him as much as ever. But, going home I realized two things. First, that I was bisexual. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't have mattered much. I was a happily married woman. It might have made sense of my porn preferences, but life would have moved on without a bump.

However, the second thing I realized while driving home was that it was not a normal situation and that Jason could never again be enough for me sexually. He was a wonderful husband, but I needed what Michelle was offering. Now that I'd had it, there was no going back. I empathized with my husband on a level I never had before. I could never again be fully happy in my life without at least occasional encounters with a Mistress. It seemed as clear as my need for breath. For the first time, I understood the way he had hounded and begged to be with me. He acted like he needed it because he did.

I needed both. I couldn't lose Jason. He was everything else in my life. So, I would trust her, My Mistress. I would do what she asked, when she asked, and address her with some goddamn respect.

My heart was racing when I pulled into the driveway. I trusted My Mistress to make it all okay in less than a day, but I had cheated on my husband. I briefly considered hiding in my car until 9pm the following night. Oddly the first flaw I found in that plan was not its general absurdity, but how bad I would look for My Mistress. Then, I realized I might have already looked like a woman who cheated on her husband. I checked the mirror. I didn't usually wear much make-up, so my face looked okay. My hair, however, screamed that my face had been ridden into a carpeted floor. I pulled a hair tie out of the glove box and smoothed it the best I could into a somewhat frizzy ponytail.

Covering up my extra-marital activities seemed clandestine. The danger turned me on, and I pondered masturbating in the car. Then I thought it better to go in and fuck Jason's brains out as pittance for cheating on him or, maybe, for whatever was going to happen the next night. But, I knew those things couldn't happen. I wasn't allowed to cum. Jason had been my lover for a long time. We didn't have sex very often, but when we did, I came early and often. There was no scenario where I could offer myself to him that didn't include me having an orgasm. He had always enjoyed mine more than his own. He didn't deserve to be cheated on. He had never turned me down. He just wasn't a Mistress, and without one, I would resent him. The kind of unfair, irrational resentment that eroded the happiness out of countless other marriages. I got out of the car, adjusted my clothes, and went inside.

Jason stood up and walked to me when I came through the door. "Hello. You're home sooner than I expected."

"Michelle...uh...had a plan." I froze. I was always a terrible liar.

"Are you okay?"

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, "Yeah, Yep, mm-hm"

"Did something go wrong? Did you not like her "plan" or something?"

"No, No. I loved it actually, worked out great. I just didn't know about it beforehand, so I thought it would take longer."

That bit of honesty seemed to fool him away from his instinct that I was hiding something. However, another instinct took its place. I was aroused. I was thinking about everything that had happened and everything that could happen. I was thinking about jumping on his dick, putting it where Michelle had touched me. I wondered if he would still taste her on me and if he would know. I was curious if I could squirt on it when he made me cum. Jason saw my desire as easily as he had seen my lie. No one would ever know me better.

He wrapped his arms around me and gave an exploratory kiss to my neck. He was so much bigger and stronger than Michelle, maybe that was why I had never wanted to be as submissive to him. Michelle had manipulated me with small, yet painful, shows of force, but I didn't feel danger there. Jason could bend me or break me, and there would be very little I could do about it. I felt the air flowing over my skin and through my hair as he pulled it into his nose, and his embrace became tighter. I was sure his brain smelled the sex on me, but I think it only let his growing erection in on the secret.

"Calm down. I just want a shower and my bed."

Rejecting him felt routine, and then sad. I thought, or more accurately hoped, that whatever was coming our way might be good for both of us. Then, I was afraid. I realized I had no idea what was going to happen. A thought which seemed exciting until I was back in my real life. My happy, stable life with my supportive husband who I loved deeply and had wronged with great enthusiasm only an hour or so before. My body was still cheering and celebrating its great accomplishments. Even the soreness of my tongue made me smile and flush. I went into the bathroom to take a shower, but I was standing with my hand was in my underwear while I thought about what I had done to my poor husband. What a little slut I had been, licking pussy and thrashing my hips in a puddle of squirt. I would have given my life for her orgasm. I would've let the world burn. I was degraded, lied to, and abused; and I loved it like the slut I was. The slut she had made me. The...

I had to stop. I wasn't allowed to cum. A standing order that seemed to make me more aroused with every passing minute. I put my wet finger in my mouth, but it didn't taste like her. In the mirror, I saw a desperate woman sucking on her finger. I looked at her and asked, "What's wrong with you?"

**************

I took a cold shower and promptly decided the effect of cold showers was a myth. My pussy was still throwing a tantrum at both the tease and lack of attention. It throbbed and cried tears of arousal. I didn't know how I could be near a man who desired me in every waking, and dream-filled, hour of his life. How could I be near him in my condition and escape without letting him touch me? I didn't want him to command me like My Mistress, but I wanted to be degraded. I wanted him to fuck me with a dildo while I sucked him off. I wanted my moans to make him cum down my throat while I writhed like a whore.

Then I saw him, and I knew that I had a short window. He had obviously just finished masturbating while I was in the shower, probably after deciding there was no chance with me. If I could get in my pj's and feign sleep quick enough, he would wrap his loving arms around his unfaithful wife and fall asleep.

Within ten minutes, he was snoring behind me, just as I had expected. What surprised me was that his blissfully ignorant, loving embrace was also enough to comfort me to sleep. I had mentally prepared for being up all night stressed and horny. It was my husband's love that brought the comfort, and, as I began drifting away, that comfort brought shame. My final thought on the matter, as my consciousness slid away, was that the shame turned me on.

The morning came and Jason got up and left. He offered to make me breakfast, but I preferred to sleep in. I didn't tell him I had the day off. I guess I just didn't want anyone to know. I didn't want any expectations of accomplishing this or that. I didn't want someone to expect a visit or ask me to lunch. I wanted my schedule free so I could pace nervously and fret over my life decisions. And, for about an hour, that's exactly what I did. Eventually, I found comfort in mundane tasks. I didn't want anyone else's to-do list, but I cleaned and put fresh sheets on the bed. I fed myself breakfast and took a shower. I used a body scrub and shaved my legs. I trimmed the short red patch of red pubic hair and rubbed my best lotions into all the skin of my naked body.

Every moment of downtime I was touching myself for a few seconds at a time. I couldn't cum, but the second my hands were free they were stroking me. Sometimes through my clothes and sometimes not, little shots of satisfaction to get me by. I couldn't tell if it was helping or making things worse, but I could tell that I wasn't going to stop.

At noon, my doorbell rang. I didn't know the young man at my door. His van and hat had matching "SDS" logos, and the side of the van explained that those letters stood for "Special Delivery Service". He was holding a gift box under one arm and a bag of take-out from a local Italian restaurant in the opposite hand. I opened the door and signed for the packages, knowing that only one person had known I would be home.

I sat the food on an entry table by the door. The gift box was far more intriguing. It was a bit longer than an average shirt box wrapped in shiny red foil. A black ribbon striped the box and came together in a large bow. I pulled on a loose bit of ribbon and the whole thing came apart and slid from the box. I sat on the couch and tore at the paper. The box was from a local boutique, The Burlap Banana. Technically they were my competition, but despite the ridiculous name it was a bit higher-end than my store, so we didn't share a lot of customers. I lifted off the lid and inside was a black dress. It didn't strike me as overly fancy, but it was buttery soft. I stood and held it up to me. It had thin straps and stopped at the mid-thigh.

In the box, there were still two items, a pair of black lace underwear and a note. It read: "Wear the dress and the underwear, no bra. Put your hair up in a French braid after your nap. Also, don't forget to tell him I'm coming. I'll see you in nine hours."

She was still taking care of me. The pasta was delicious and as the resulting carb-crash settled in, I got back into the bed with my fresh sheets and took my scheduled nap. I woke three hours before Jason would be home, and I set about preparing for My Mistress. The dress was the perfect understated sexy that only little black dresses deliver. Less understated were my free-swinging breasts. My nipples were being constantly pet by the sweet soft material of the dress and there was no hiding them.

I looked at the lacy underwear and worried that they would be less comfortable. I rubbed them between my fingers to see if the material was abrasive, but then I noticed the cuts. At first, I thought they had a rip, but the damage was too clean. The waistband had been cut from the top and bottom, where it would sit on each side of my hips. I slid them on, and the damage was almost imperceptible.

I looked in the mirror while I braided my hair. I looked sexy, and I felt sexy. I had been dressed to get railed in front of my husband. I could see the moment I had been dressed to create. I was supposed to see it. It wasn't supposed to surprise me. It was all about Jason and his reaction. The panties would be ripped off my body. She would pull my braid while she drove her strapon into me, and my swinging tits would burst over the top of the dress.

With an hour left before Jason would be home, I decided my look was complete. I texted Jason that Michelle would be coming over for drinks around nine. Everything was set.

**************

Jason came through the door and his jaw dropped. Without a word, he closed the distance between us. His tongue was in my mouth, and one strap of my dress was at my elbow while he squeezed the exposed breast. He dropped to his knees and started to lift my dress, but I pushed his head away. Jason sat back on his heels with an indignant look on his confused face. I didn't have a way to explain. The best I could do was say, "I'm hungry."